


Mine

by lepusarcticus



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s04e13 Never Again, F/M, First Time, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Episode: s04e13 Never Again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepusarcticus/pseuds/lepusarcticus
Summary: Mulder finishes his sentence.





	

“Not everything is about you, Mulder. This is my life.”

  
Mulder blinks at her a few times, softening, his vulnerability shining like a new penny under his bratty charade. “Yes, but it’s m -”  
  
\---------  
  
Scully moves around her apartment in a haze. Turns the television on, then off. Picks up a book, and reads the same sentence four times before putting it back down again. Makes a cup of tea, then forgets about it while it over-steeps. Damn him, she thinks, as she tilts her cup into the sink, watching the lukewarm liquid swirl down the drain. Her tattoo, still new, itches irritably against the back of her sweater.

Arlington tomorrow, she reminds herself. She’d better pack.

She leans against the sink and sighs forcefully, as if trying to physically expel the weight of him from her lungs. Mulder. His heavy, sullen presence is overwhelming, even when she’s alone. At some point in the last four years, he’s taken residence within her, braided himself into her ribcage. Everything she does, everything she is, pulses with the dark undertone of him - _muldermuldermuldermulder._ She wonders idly if she’ll ever be free of him. If she even wants to be. Hadn’t she gone to Philadelphia for him, even after she told herself she wouldn’t?  
  
But then there was Ed. And the tattoo. And for one night, she _was_ free. At least, until everything went to shit. _Why does everything always go to shit?_ She closes her eyes, swallowing the bitterness rising in her throat, little pinpricks of sensation spiraling from the loop on her lower back. _Get it together, Dana._

A sharp knock at the door startles her, and the immediate jiggling of a key in the lock erases all doubt in her mind as to the identity of her visitor. _God, leave me alone, you asshole._

He opens the door like he owns the place, closes it behind him as he settles his gaze on her face. He stares at her with an unreadable look in those gray-green eyes, and she wants to punch him and send his goddamned teeth skittering across the hardwood, or tear his clothes off and ride him into submission, break him like a wild horse. Maybe both.    
  
For a long moment, they say nothing. But Scully notices the dangerous set of his jaw, the heaving of his chest under his jacket. She’s seen him like this before. He’s determined. Laser-focused, smouldering. She’s almost surprised that she can’t see plumes of steam rising from his shoulders.  
  
He opens his mouth to say something - “Look, Scully, I’m sor -” but for the second time that day, she shoots him a look that silences him. At least she has this much power over him. At least. He might live inside of her like some wicked spirit, but at least she can shut him up. She crosses her arms, waiting for his next move.

He sighs, turns dejected. “Why him, Scully?” She stares in disbelief, anger flaring in her chest. The pure _nerve -  
_

“Why _him_ , when we _both_ … when I…”  
   
“When _what_ , Mulder?” She hisses, viciously, practically spitting fire. She wants to hear him say it. She knows he won’t.

He steps towards her, clenching his jaw, his eyebrows knit together in a silent plea. 

She squares her shoulders and tips her chin up at him, an invitation, a challenge.  
  
“Scully. It’s… you’re... oh, for _fuck’s_ sake.”  
  
And then he closes the distance between them, and he’s kissing her, crushing her to his chest. And to her own great disbelief, she is kissing him back. Tongues tangle. Her hands in his hair. A little damp. It must be raining outside. Oh God, those lips. She’s had fantasies about those lips, and none are living up to the real thing. His kiss is rough and sweet and decadent, one large hand threading itself into the hair at the nape of her neck, the other one encircling her waist.  
  
Scully feels herself melt, and tries desperately to pull herself together again. She fights against the sheer, foolish romance of it all, but she can’t deny the way they fit together, the heat blooming between her hipbones, the strange swirl of déjà vu sending warmth into her chest. It’s so right. So familiar.

He smells of leather and forest floor and sweat, of the stale coffee he spilled on his shirtsleeve earlier that day. She tries to break away for air, but he pulls her closer, growls a single syllable against her mouth - “ _mine._ ” The word shoots straight to her center in an electric shock.  
  
She resents the thrill that creeps up her spine, pulls back to heave a breath into her lungs, digs her nails into his shoulders. She wrestles with herself - she wants this, oh God, she wants this, but she can’t let him win. She can’t.  
  
But he’s so large, so overpowering, so _male_ , and her body betrays her at every turn. He pulls her back in, painfully latching onto her neck with his teeth like a predator, and she’s putty in his hands, molding herself against the warm cotton of his work shirt, slipping her hands under the stiff leather of his jacket and leaving it in a rumpled pile on the floor.  
  
He bends and grasps her thighs, hoisting her up and spinning her around to pin her against the wall. Her legs surround him of their own accord, even as her mind distantly screams at her - _“get it together, Dana, you can’t do this, you can’t do this”._

Mulder presses into her, his hardness and heat already overwhelming. She can feel herself gush in her underwear, the heat rising in her cheeks. Her hands are in his hair, pulling, fingernails digging into his scalp. He releases her neck and trails his tongue along her jaw, up to her ear. “ _Mine,”_ he seethes against her earlobe, hot breath escaping through clenched teeth. He thrusts his hips roughly into hers, pinning her even more tightly. Her folds swell in anticipation, and she wills the blood back into her center. _Traitorous,_ she thinks, even as she reaches for his clothes.  
  
She works her fingers at his shirt collar, unraveling his tie, deftly flicking the top buttons open as he groans against her jaw. He kneads her ass, working his long fingers inwards towards her center. She pushes back against him with her hips, urging him forward. She feels desperate, feral, wild. She needs him. She hates him for doing this to her. She loves him for doing this to her. She admonishes herself - _Nothing for three years, and now two different men within the week. Good God, Dana. Not just any two men, either - a murderous psychopath and your fucking partner. What’s gotten into you?_  
  
Mulder releases her, lets her slide down his body until her feet touch the floor, smoothing his hands from her rump to her hips and underneath the hem of her sweater. His fingers are rough and warm against her quivering stomach. He sinks to his knees in front of her, his mouth hungrily following his fingers, tracing arcane patterns into her skin. Her nerves fire in filigree, up to her breasts, in towards her heart.  
  
He presses his thumbs into her hipbones. “ _Mine..._ ” He exhales against her, his breath ragged. Scully whimpers, almost imperceptibly, and he runs his hands up the smooth curves of her tiny waist, taking the sweater along with him. Scully finishes the job, lifting the thin black fabric over her head, as Mulder reaches up to cup her through her bra, squeezing, the callous of his hand scratching against the smooth satin.

She reaches behind herself, arching towards him and away from the wall to unhook her bra, and feels herself spill out into his rough palms as she flings the bra away, forgotten. Her nipples are so painfully tight and hard that they’ve taken on the colour of bruised fruit, almost purple. She shifts against him again, begging him wordlessly. His eyes have turned dark and reverent, and her skin burns under them.  
  
The flat of his tongue dips through parted lips, and he drags it around her navel, up towards her breasts. They feel heavy, swollen with desire. Scully emits a little whine, pushing herself towards him, and he thrusts back at her, hands spanning the dip of her waist. “ _Mine,_ ” he purrs, reaching up to lap at the underside of her left breast. He traces the line of her ribs with his tongue, rumbling his appreciation deep in his chest.  
  
Another rush of wetness seeps through her panties, and through her trousers too, she’s sure. She is aching for him. She wonders if he can smell her need. She melts into the wall behind her, sinking lower, seeking sweet release, and Mulder uses the new angle to take her nipple into his mouth. She gasps, his tongue hot and wet against her sensitive flesh, and she can feel herself pebbling, tightening even more. Her fingernails dig into his scalp, his shoulder. He sucks and licks and pulls and bites until she thinks she might cry from the pleasure-pain of it, and then abruptly switches to her left breast, leaving the right one reddish and cold against the air of her apartment.  
  
Oh God, that tongue. She had spent years watching him expertly shuck sunflower seeds against his bottom lip while she squeezed her thighs together in one rental Ford or another. One time, in Arkansas, she thinks, he popped a maraschino cherry into his mouth at a skeezy bar, tied the stem into a double knot, and stuck his tongue out at her, smirking. He rolled words off of that tongue that she had never heard before - names of obscure cryptids, paranormal phenomena, his own Frankensteinian rearrangements of scientific terms - some dark wizard breathing life into the ether.  
  
He releases her other nipple and pulls back to look up at her, his hair sticking out at wild angles, and he looks so infuriatingly like _himself_ \- part puppy, part sex god, her own personal Byronic hero - that it stuns Scully into the reality of what’s happening. _No. This can’t. This won’t. He can’t. We can’t. I can’t._  
  
Mulder senses the change in her bearing, and staggers to his feet, eyelashes casting long, coltish shadows against his cheekbones as he looks down at her. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Fighting against the instinct of her aching sex, she breaks eye contact, tries to cover herself with her hands.  
  
But he’s there with her, suddenly tender, cupping her jaw with both hands and locking her eyes to him. He breathes her first name into her mouth, low, intimate, an incantation. “ _Dana…_ ” Galaxies collide. Stars burst into supernovas. And she crumbles.  
  
He senses the opening and slips into her atmosphere again, seizing her mouth with his, and his kiss is long and low this time, affectionate. She can feel his want, not just in the probing of his tongue, not just in the wandering of his hands, not just in the hard, hot steel nudging her hip under his slacks, but in _him._

He keeps kissing her, holding her close, exploring her mouth, but one hand has found its way to the button of her pants. He unhooks it expertly, not bothering to even push the fabric over her hips before dipping his hand into the lace of her underwear. He groans against her mouth, almost a laugh, and lays his long middle finger along the smooth line where her labia meet, the heel of his palm cupping the damp auburn curls of her mons pubis. Scully bucks forward, urging him wordlessly, and he obliges, sinking into her wetness, gently parting her folds. His index finger joins the middle, and he strokes her from her opening to her burning clitoris. She gasps when he presses into the bundle of nerves there, maddeningly slow and purposeful. Mulder slides his fingers back towards her opening, and she throbs with need. She’s chanting in her head - _pleasepleasepleaseplease_ \- and a sob erupts from her chest when he pushes inside of her with both fingers. The pad of his thumb takes up the cause at her clit. Warm honey drips down her thighs. She’s almost embarrassed at how wet she is. When has she ever been this aroused?

His tongue slows in her mouth as he concentrates on fucking her, and she takes the opportunity to capture his bottom lip in her teeth. She bites, hard, yearning for one modicum of control over him, but he only smiles, wolf-like, against her teeth. She tastes the copper tang of blood. He slips his fingers out of her, trailing wetness up her belly. She feels bereft without him inside of her, and whines pathetically in protest, releasing his lip. And then those long fingers are inside of her mouth, slick with her own arousal, the distinctly feminine taste of sea salt and oyster flesh mingling with his blood. She almost comes right there against the wall when he grits his teeth against her jaw and commands, in his gravelled monotone, “ _mine_ ”.  
  
His tongue joins his fingers in her mouth, and Scully emits a whimper. He might just drive her to the brink of insanity. He might just push her over the edge. She tries to gain a little control over her body, scrambling to finish unhooking the buttons on his shirt, but the last one won’t budge, no matter how she dips and twists her trembling fingers around it. Frustrated, she rips it open - and he laughs again against her mouth before removing both of his hands from her and letting the shirt slide down from his arms and onto the floor.  
  
The planes of his torso are smooth and hard, and Scully marvels at him, not for the first time. What was it that Socrates said? _It is a shame for man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable..._ Yeah, he would have loved Mulder. Scully runs her hands over his supple skin, tracing the bullet scar she left. He captures her hand there, holding it to the rippled, pale tissue, and this time, his soft, low “ _mine_ ” sends a warm rush over her whole body.  
  
He bends to pick her up again, and her legs go around him, and it’s as if she’s been doing this her entire life, as if she has practiced this move every day, as easy and natural as pouring a cup of coffee from the little percolator she bought last year for the basement office.  
  
He walks her to the bedroom, one arm under her ass, supporting her, the other spanning her back in a wide embrace. He nibbles at her collarbone, and she frantically peppers kisses along his hairline. Claws at his warm, naked back. Yes. Yes, she needs him inside of her. Yesyesyes.  
  
A single tear slips down her cheek and into the corner of her mouth. It tastes of ocean, storm and brine and life itself. 

He dumps her unceremoniously onto her bed, and before Scully can scramble up, he holds her back with his eyes. They’re hungry, commanding, completely in control. Without breaking eye contact, he whips open the strap of his belt, and the sight of him undressing like this is so erotic that Scully thinks she might faint. He steps out of his trousers and boxers in one movement, and oh. Oh, there he is. Oh, holy shit. Her lips suddenly feel very dry, and she darts her tongue out to remedy the situation. She has the bizarre urge to cross herself and utter a prayer.  
  
She makes a movement towards him, but he bends over her and yanks her trousers and panties down, flinging them away. They’re both completely naked now, both breathless. His hands roam the shapely planes of her legs, and he pushes her knees upwards and backwards in one forceful motion, gripping the back of her thighs so that she can’t move. She’s utterly exposed to him, spread wide, and she whimpers as her wetness trickles a hot trail between the swells of her ass. She’s so wet. So wet for him _._  
  
He looks at her for a long while, and she becomes self-conscious, wriggling under his strength. He is close now, and she can feel his breath hot on her sex, the tip of his nose nudging her inner thigh. He dips his tongue into the valley of her ass, lapping up her juices, and she trembles at the sensation, angling her hips downwards, urging him towards her center. She wants to call out to him, but she’s afraid it would break the spell.  
  
He looks up at her underneath his eyebrows and squeezes her thighs as he breathes, predatory, against her pussy - _“mine”_ \- and God bless him, he licks her with a flat tongue all the way from her anus to her clit. She shivers underneath him, scrambling for something to grasp onto - something, anything. Her nails scrape hopelessly against the sheets.  
  
Another long, slow lick, his stubble scratching against her sensitive skin, and she can feel beads of sweat form on her brow as he laps up her wetness. She flexes her legs against his hands, and he gets the hint, dipping the tip of his tongue into her opening for just a moment, then returning to suck on her clit. She gasps her approval, and he stays there this time, flicking and rolling his tongue against her, growling ravenously, like an animal. Scully briefly contemplates reversing her position on the existence of werewolves - was it a full moon tonight? - and then Mulder performs a particularly exquisite trick with his tongue , and she is reduced to vague impressions, her synapses firing as he nips at her labia - blood oranges oozing between sharp canine teeth, shadowy roses blooming, the tumultuous roil of the sea.  
  
She can’t believe it, but she can already feel the heat begin to coil at the base of her spine, pulsing darkly with need. She whimpers, greedy, bucking her hips into his face, reaching down to try to grip his head and grind into him. She’s so close… so close… an entire ocean churning within her, swelling and rolling and aching to crash around him… _pleaseyesgodpleasemulderplease -_

And he is gone, leaving her feeling naked and cold, a half-drowned sailor gasping for air. She vocalizes her betrayal, yowling into the room, but before she knows it, he’s leaning over her, and -

_Fuuuuhuhck -_

He slides into her in one smooth, slow motion, his cock stretching her almost past her limits, and she’s gasping in pain and pleasure all mixed up in one heady, deadly cocktail. He buries himself in her to the hilt, then pauses, panting, forcing Scully’s half-lidded gaze back to him, always back to him. He’s glazed in a fine sheen of sweat, pupils dilated with desire, and she can see his pulse pounding a rapid staccato against his neck. _Jesus, he’s so beautiful_ , she thinks.  
  
He brings his thumb to part her parched lips, balancing on one forearm above her, his eyes glittering, and rasps a low and triumphant “ _mine._ ”

Scully blinks slowly back up at him, and he’s throbbing inside of her. She’s cock-drunk already, but he begins to move and she’s practically catatonic with the feel of him, the hot, hard, heavy fullness of him. His thrusts are controlled at first, long and ardent as he pushes into her. “ _Mine,_ ” he murmurs tenderly, “ _minnnne,_ ” placing kisses in trails along her collarbones, neck, jaw, forehead, lips…

She clenches around him reflexively as he rocks into her, and he groans, nuzzling into her neck. Her legs encircle him, and he finds her hands and threads his fingers through hers, bringing them above her head, pressing her forearms into the mattress with his. He kisses her gently with open eyes, and Scully realizes she has never felt this before - this heat, this need, this love. Yes, she realizes, she loves him. She loves him, oh God, she loves him, and suddenly nothing exists but the dark cocoon of his embrace. Another tear escapes, and he kisses it away, whispering a slow, sweet “ _mine”_ against her temple.  
  
She sighs with pleasure as he bears his weight into her again and again. She’s adjusted to his size, but her pussy is still burning white-hot, almost sending sparks into the air where their bodies meet. She grunts a poor semblance of his name, and his thrusts intensify as he finds a new, more savage cadence. Scully can feel her orgasm building again, a primal mandala deep in her belly, and with every crash of his hips into her, she’s slowly slipping under the surface, under the water, down into the sweet, deep oblivion of release… _yesmulderyesmulderyesgod_ …  
  
And then he’s still - _ohpleasegodno -_ cruelly withholding her orgasm from her. She rips her eyes open and gives a wordless cry of protest. _“Mine,”_ he demands, his voice intense and fuming with passion. _“Say it, Scully.”_  
  
“ _Mul-_ ”  
  
He presses her hands hard into the mattress. “ _Say. It._ ”    
  
She searches his face, and knows it. She is his. It's the simplest truth in this wide, wild universe. Even on that first night in the rain, she was his.   
  
“ _Yours_ ,” she gasps finally, a dark mantra, a prayer, a vow. “ _Yours_ , _yours, yours,_ ”  
  
He crushes her mouth with his, thrusts viciously into her once, twice, again, again - and she finally, gorgeously unravels, dragging him over the edge with her, down into the oceanic depths of her ecstasy.  
  
\---------  
  
Afterwards, in the hot stream of the shower, she slides her tiny hand around his slippery, already-hardening cock, and murmurs a refrain into his chest.  
  
_“Mine,”_ she commands, and Mulder dips his chin towards her as he thrusts gently into her palm.  
  
“ _Yours,_ ” he promises. “ _Yours._ ”  



End file.
